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Topic: Nights in Nehwon (Read 20379 times)

Canted Mingol eyes spared a glance for the fish and the magician, each in turn before returning to their surroundings. "Keep your crow-spawned bickering down. Do you want us to get noticed by the rats? Your stupid display probably killed one of their scouts, and eating the body probably did nothing good for our image either. I'd rather leave this cramped dung-hole with my limbs fully attached. Fym, do we have any idea how long before we enter the domain of the rodents?"

The journey through the sewers had already been deep enough that Raelef knew he would have little hope of finding his way back upwards on his own. He would, it seemed, have to keep this wretched Fym alive, at least long enough to make it back out. The rest of them... well. He would see their use, one way or another, it seemed.

As the Mingol spoke up, however, he also raised his eyes, the burning blaze there settling on the nervous little man being addressed. He too, you see, wished the answer to that question.

"As soon as we get through here", Fym pointed a hesitant finger. He was hoping to avoid the chittering of the Kingdom of Rats, truth be told, steering the group along the outskirts of the rat-tunnels, sticking to the pathways of the non-rat thieves of Lankhmar.

In fact, they would have probably been attacked by a gang of rats by now, Fym thought, or worse, if their group was not so large and intimidating. Gods of Lankhmar, he hated rats.

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They had come up on a 4-way corridor, lights flickering from smoky, hanging blubber-oil lamps along the walls. In front of them lay what looked like a pit dug by giant rats. Twenty feet in diameter, a deep, darkness-filled earthen hole.

Fym apparoached and shined a light, then took a hunk of cheese from his pocket and dropped it into the gloom, listened to the chittering for a few seconds, then removed a silken rope and several iron spikes from his pack.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

"Climbing. Bah, I thought I'd gotten out of this sort of business when I left the Brotherhood." Ku'shuus grabbed one of the spikes, hammered it down into the ground with his sword hilt, and began tying a tight knot around it with the rope.

Seeing Ku'shuus go down the rope, Geswald quickly followed. Hand over hand he descended the rope, thankful that those years on the Orion were not a total waste. As they descended, he listened for how Ku'shuus fared below.

The fish man, how he was amused by their furry discomfort, skulked about. Let them hammer in the dark and go down into the pit. He flared his nostrils wide, breathing in the fetid stink of the sewers and drains. They were all nervous, they smelled like shivering cattle waiting for the butcher. They thought that the rats didnt know they were there. Of course the rats knew, the rodents knew before they entered into the dark. Humans and their filth, always up to their dangle-meat in rats and fleas. The best plans are those that are hatched under water, where the only things that listen are the silence of the sea, and the sharks.

Going down hand over hand in mail was, for Raelef, more a feat of raw grip strength than anything else. In fact, more a matter of a controlled fall, ending in a heavy, rattling sound at the end, and a slow rise from the bottom of the rope. Getting back up would be... interesting, to say the least, but for the moment, only pride was seriously harmed. Yes, he would have to eventually kill the witnesses.

Landing softly, Fym looked up to see the others descending, all but the fish-man, who seemed to prefer finding his own water-ways through the sewers. The Mingol and the torturer came first. Geswald soon followed. The others were still descending.

As he glanced at his companions, Fym realized why they had not been molested so far by denizens of the Dark-Below. They were a scary-looking bunch, plain and simple.

Fym the Rib peered into the gloom of more tunnels, snaking from the floor of the earthen pit. Picking one, he proceeded once more, assuming the others would follow. They had finally arrived at the Gates of Refuse-Town.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Whistled as he worked, and probably would be whistling when he died too, the Rib thought. He eyed the odd group up and down unabashedly, whistling the whole time. He was a head taller than Fym and looked dangerous. “Vermillion” Fym said squarely and waited.

An eternal pause… The guard whistled, and furrowed his eye-brows, and slowly moved his head from side to side in reproach. Fym cursed Sevyas Jib. The lying worm had sworn that “Vermillion” was this week’s word. Just then he remembered what else was needed besides the pass-word. Fym reached inside his water-proof, seal-skin sack and pulled out a garnet, one of many Sheelba had given him, for just such expenses. He flipped the gem to the guard.

Still whistling, the tall man turned momentarily and signaled a shadowy figure in a dark crevice. Latches opened somewhere, and the sound echoed along the tunnels. Gears creaked. The oak-and-iron gate that led to the Undercity was opening as if in protest.

Fym proceeded with a quick glance back at his companions-by-necessity. He noticed the Whistler seemed to be asking each one for a “toll payment”. Fym hoped the rest had something to give. No one entered Refuse-Town without a token payment.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Mingol gold speaks for itself, and a few of Ku'shuus' gold pieces said everything that needed to be said. The sellsword passed by the guard to join his companions on the other side of the gate, his money pouch a bit lighter for the distance traveled.

The Fish man regarded the human sentinel with unvieled distain, bribery was unheard of among the ichthyoids of Simorgya. Unfortunately, circumstances dictated that a bribe be given, rather a more traditional trident through the abdomen. He opened a small pouch, the leather an uncomfortable color, reminiscent of human skin, and produced a glossy blue circular object. Two slots radiated from the center of it, and a hole ran through the middle. The fish man extended his hand, palm up, to the sentinel. The hook like claws on the end of each finger were semi-translucent in the poor light.

Geswald reached into his bag of tricks. He found one of the glass orbs he used to dazzle urchins and other onlookers. Pretty glass, they had magically created lights which flashed dimly when the sphere was struck or dropped. He dropped this token into the guard's hand where it lit up briefly.

The light lit up the gaurd's face breifly. A quick look of wonder was replaced by suspicion, but he waved Geswald on.

Into his own pouches, too, dug Raelef, eventually bringing forth a small token, made of brass, and gone to verdigris, its green tint recognizable instantly. Less recognizable, perhaps, would be the sigil carven into the token, the smallest mark of favor of the Lady of Pain. Redeemable, perhaps, with only his own Cult, that small favor could none the less be valuable at the right time...A favor to be accepted with some measure of fear.

The guard shrugged at the tokens offered him for passage. He had received worse, and heard tales of things slimy and poison given, so he was content with these that would likely fetch at least some coin if not offer entertainment for the rest of his watch. The point was not so much the value of the items given, more that they were given freely, as entry was not permitted to those who had nothing to offer.

Refuse-town was not for those who thought themselves too needy to give something up- the poorest of the poor relegated themselves to live in that darkness, and all the coin from the tolls went to gather much-needed goods from the surface that simply could not be gotten otherwise.

Surprisingly, there was enough traffic to keep the people who habitated the place in predictable, if scarce, supply.

After placing the items in a bag behind him and drawing it shut, he nodded the group on their way, and leaned against the wall, resuming his whistling.

Logged

There's truth in your lies, Doubt in your faith. What you build you lay to waste.

In moments, the aromas of the nameless City of Thieves, assaulted their nostrils. A mockery of Lankhmar’s Plaza of Dark Delights lay before them, wide caverns, oil-burning lamps adorning the earthen walls, ancient stone statues lying crumbled haphazardly, men and rats scurrying all about.

Most impressive of all was the Souk itself. A hundred stalls manned by a hundred different hawkers-- foodstuffs, weapons, cloaks, astrolabes, idols, fetishes, maps, illicit goods of all kind, from the four corners of the world, and more. There were in fact more people here buying fenced and stolen items, Fym thought amazed, bartering in the dancing shadows of the foul-smelling blubber-lamps, than there were in the Souks above-ground in Lankhmar proper. Among the “shoppers” Fym could spy the Ratfolk and the Ghouls of Lankhmar, bizarre men and women with transparent skin.

It took a few moments for the eyes to adjust to the opulence of “Refuse-Town.”

“We need to find Wissif or Hoarse. One is a fat thief, so I been told, the other a ghoul. Good luck with that one, I wager. We can split up about the Souk. Mayhaps do some shopping as well, if possible, find something out about the Eye of Vood, in our own way, and reconvene in a few hours…”

Fym trailed off. Perhaps one or more of them could have a talk with someone and get some answers.

“How are your powers of persuasion?” he finally managed to address both the Mingol and Raelef of the Torturer’s Guild directly. Then again, Fym thought to himself, any of these people; Geswald, the fish-man, the necromancer from Ool Hrusp, could potentially be excellent "persuaders".

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

To this question, Raelef merely smiled a very crooked smile, his hand reaching up to tap the symbol carven into his brow. "It is not my primary duty, but all Her Servants are quite skilled in the arts of... persuading the unwilling. I merely ask time, without interruption." A small, dark chuckle, as his crooked smile widened. "It is... a most enjoyable act of worship, you see."

Geswald flinched inwardly at Raelefs' comment. Many indeed knew of his talents and those of his order.

He diverted his attention to the area, looking upon the chaos with the eyes of a befuddled tourist."Okay, that sounds good to me, though a bit like looking for a needle in a pile of ... needles." And with a quick word of magic, Geswald became a needle. His scholarly robes were replaced by the tattered cloths of a street person, and his features obsured by dirt and ragged bandages.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.